


Of Souls and a Full Moon

by Sainalone



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 18:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18255002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sainalone/pseuds/Sainalone
Summary: It is not the body which holds truth within, but the underlying soul which it encompasses.





	Of Souls and a Full Moon

On the outskirts of Eastvale Logging Camp lay a small cabin which resided near the entrance leading deeper into Elwynn Forest. Living in this cabin was a young woman by the name of Fiona who earned a living by growing and selling flowers.

Early each morning she would get up, clean and dress herself, and then leave the house with a basket and a pair of shears. Sauntering down to the garden, she would start snipping at the ever-blooming flowers and putting them into the basket. The way she moved from one flower to another was elegant and flowing, her hands moving in a way as graceful as a gryphon gliding upon a breeze. While she worked, she would hum quietly to herself, her voice soothing enough to lull a distressed animal to sleep. When the basket was finally full, she would take the flowers to the nearby town of Goldshire and start selling them on the streets.

One night after Fiona had returned home, she was about to retire when she heard someone knocking at her door. Not fearing a burglar or a thief—for her heart was blithe and bright—she opened the door without hesitation. Standing in front of her was a young man in a ragged tunic, a bindle hanging over his shoulder on which his long messy hair cascaded. When he saw her, his face lit up for the slightest second before resuming its somber expression.

He told her that he was a refugee from the kingdom of Gilneas named Galen who had recently arrived at Elwynn; at the moment he could not find a place to sleep for he had been rejected by every home he had visited. Consequently, he had come to her after seeing her cabin on the edge of the lumber camp. Dropping his bindle onto the ground and clasping his hands together, he implored her to let him stay at her place for the time being.

Upon hearing Galen’s story, Fiona, being as caring and kind as ever, welcomed him with her whole heart. She allowed him in and led him to an area where a makeshift bed could be set up. Once he had settled in, she bade him good night before going to her bed, her mind bearing neither apprehensive nor ill thoughts.

After this unexpected meeting, the cabin now held two living souls, one as pure as the driven snow and the other mysterious and cloudy as the cursed region of Duskwood. True to her heart, however, the man harbored no harm or any malevolent intent. Instead, he proved to be upright and hardworking—Fiona saw this while she was walking back to her cabin one evening after having sold her flowers. Galen had had the good fortune to have found a job at the camp, and that evening Fiona noticed him still working hard, his face dripping with sweat yet showing no signs of fatigue or weariness.

With each passing night, Fiona learned more about the stranger whom she had allowed to stay at her place. When Galen returned to the cabin each evening after dusk had fallen and a blanket of stars had begun to fill the darkened sky, they would talk late into the night. He would tell her about his past, his childhood, and how he had ended up in this forested land. As days turned into weeks, he started to become more open to her. He would smile more often, help her in the garden and with the cooking, and, on rare occasions, compliment her. It was at this point that his true self began to show itself to her—a man with a diligent heart and a noble soul.

Just as all seemed to go well, however, everything soon changed. Entering the fourth week of Galen’s sojourn, Fiona noticed how he suddenly became quiet. The merry conversations they had every night soon became one-sided, with Galen replying with only a single word each time when asked. Instead of interacting with her, he would seclude himself within the confines of his makeshift bed. It was as if he was trying to distance himself from her, to push her away as far as he could.

Then one night, Fiona was roused from her sleep by the sound of her cabin’s door opening and closing. Sitting up in her bed, she scanned the room while her eyes adjusted to the dark. She searched for Galen, looking at the makeshift bed on the other side of the room. She rubbed her eyes twice to make sure they were not deceiving her for the makeshift bed was empty, with Galen nowhere to be found. Alarmed and curious, Fiona got out of her bed and went to get her lantern. Putting on her shoes, she grabbed her oil lamp, lit it, and exited the house.

A full moon was shining tonight. Looking at the ground, Fiona saw footprints which were unmistakably Galen’s. As she started following them, she noticed how the prints became more distant and less frequent as they went on, suggesting that Galen had broken into a run at some point.

Starting at the cabin, the tracks led her deeper into the forest. As she ventured under the foliage, Fiona could hear the thumping beat of her heart with each step she took. She could not fathom why Galen would want to go out alone into the forest at night, as well as why she was doing the exact same thing. After several minutes of trudging across the forest floor, she arrived at a small glade hidden behind a row of bushes. In the center of the glade was something she had never believed to be true, something she had thought to be only nonsense, rumors, and mere superstition from Duskwood.

It was a worgen.

Fiona’s eyes widened, and for the first time in many years, she felt scared. Trying to keep herself calm and quiet, she slowly backed away.

And stepped onto a fallen twig.

_SNAP_

In an instant the worgen turned towards the noise and saw her, its menacing gaze apparent on its features. When Fiona locked eyes with the beast, for reasons unknown, she felt as though she had seen this hulking creature before. It was at this moment that she noticed something on the ground next to the worgen’s feet. They were the shredded remains of a tunic, a familiar one which was worn by someone she had known for almost a month.

“Galen?”

As if in a trance, Fiona slowly stepped forward, her fear suddenly forgotten, until she was an arm’s length apart from the worgen. Looking up at the creature before her, she was certain that this beast was Galen. Despite the worgen’s hideous and ferocious features, the hazel eyes which were glaring at her could not be mistaken for someone else’s.

“Why? Why have you followed me?”

Unlike before, Galen’s voice was deep and accompanied by a low growl. Despite knowing he should not, being a cursed man and such, he could not stop looking at her for she was so beautiful, both in body and in her soul. Her kindness captivated him dearly and her smile brightened his day, and for these reasons he had fallen for her the first night they had met one another. However, as much as he loved her, he knew he was unworthy of her affection. He was a ragged man, homeless and imprecated with the curse of the worgen, and while the others had been able to make peace with themselves after drinking from the wells of Tal’doren, it had been impossible for him to do the same. Under the pale moonlight she was a goddess while he was nothing more than a menacing beast.

“Why are you not afraid of this savage creature, a feral beast which could have torn you apart the moment it had laid eyes on you?”

Upon hearing Galen’s words, Fiona recalled the evening she had seen him drenched in sweat, how he had continued working despite his body aching for rest. She then thought back to the nights they had spent talking to each other, how slowly he had opened up to her, helped her in the garden and with the cooking, and complimented her. Knowing completely the answer to his question, she raised a hand and gently placed it on his muzzle.

“Because deep down, unlike your cursed body, your soul remains pure and noble, and for that I trust you."

And to prove true her words, she leaned up and forward and planted a kiss on his snout.


End file.
